* * *
At ViaSports, they’re offering to only take a small commission in exchange for accommodating him.
If things go wrong, they can just terminate the contract and send him back, citing bad behavior.
But they seem hesitant, probably because he’s a real talent.
A promising player, if only he’d open up a bit more…
In the end, it’s all about money again.
Taehyun clicked his tongue in frustration.
He could clearly see the situation: the kid had talent and might win medals, so it would be a waste to let another agency snatch him up, but on the other hand, he’s too unruly to manage.
But Taehyun wasn’t in a position to fix this mess either.
‘What do they think I am, some kind of miracle worker or idol that everyone just naturally likes?’
“Uh, hyung, just so you know… It’s not like all the kids follow me around or anything…”
As Taehyun cautiously tried to set the stage for rejecting the upcoming request, his manager quickly shut him down.
“Oh, I know! Of course! Do you really think I’d ask you to do something unreasonable? I’m just saying, maybe you could help out a little. I mean, the kid’s only 18, and he’s all alone in Korea. He must be feeling lonely. And since you’re good with people, maybe you could help him settle in? That’s all.”
‘So it is an unreasonable request after all,’ Taehyun groaned inwardly.
Eighteen?
The thought of taking care of someone that young, who probably wouldn’t even recognize the typical senior-junior dynamics, was overwhelming.
The reason younger athletes looked up to Taehyun wasn’t because he was some kind of role model, but because they admired his success.
Even though he hadn’t yet achieved Olympic success, Taehyun had already made a name for himself as a sports star after winning the Asian Games.
Despite a missed chance at his first Olympics, he quickly bounced back in the next international competition.
With his refreshing, easygoing personality, he’d even gained popularity on variety shows, making him something of a celebrity among other athletes.
Not just the younger ones, but most athletes wanted to get close to him.
Taehyun had always maintained a clean-cut image, and he had a tendency to look out for people once they became friends.
So it wasn’t surprising that athletes wanted to stay in his good graces.
After all, connections were one of the few assets athletes could rely on outside of their physical abilities.
But if this kid wasn’t serious about continuing his career in Korea?
That wasn’t something Taehyun could fix.
His influence was limited to encouragement, not reforming troubled kids. Unable to hide his discomfort, Taehyun responded:
“Yeah, but it’s not like everyone automatically likes me. It’s only the kids who are eager to work hard. If this guy’s not even interested in trying, I can’t change that.”
On top of everything, if the kid had been involved in an assault, no matter how severe or minor, that was no small matter.
The idea of dumping that responsibility onto Taehyun, another athlete, instead of a professional agent or manager, was ridiculous.
Taehyun had already made up his mind to say no and waited for the manager’s response.
“Look, I’m not asking you to work some miracle. Just keep an eye on him for a while. They’ve already decided to exclude him from the team’s joint training for the next month as a disciplinary measure. Since someone has to watch over him anyway, I figured it’d be easier for him to relate to you since you’re around his age, right?”
At that, Taehyun raised an eyebrow. Since when was being 24 the same as 18?
A six-year gap only starts to feel small when you’re in your 40s.
He swallowed a sigh, feeling more exasperated with each absurd statement.
“I don’t think it’s as simple as you’re making it out to be…”
To be honest, yeah, it would probably be better for his mental health to get out and interact with people rather than staying cooped up at home.
But it’s not like he’d be meeting close friends or teammates—he’d be dealing with a problem kid from a different sport, much younger, and already involved in an assault case.
There was no way this wouldn’t turn into a headache.
Taehyun was once again leaning toward refusing when his manager threw out a line that shook his resolve.
“Just meet him once. I think he’s acting out because he doesn’t have anyone to turn to. His mom’s not exactly supportive of his athletic career, and he doesn’t have friends or anyone else. Imagine how lonely it must be to come all the way here by himself.”
That one line made Taehyun pause. He massaged his temples as a dull ache started to build.
“What do you mean his mom’s not supportive?”
“Yeah, apparently his mom’s his only guardian, but she’s tied up in France with her work. She couldn’t come with him, and because of some sponsorship deal he’s had since he was young, he’s now competing for the Korean national team. So everything else is up to him. She basically said, ‘He’s 18—he’s old enough to handle it.’”
That didn’t sound like something a normal parent would say.
Maybe things were different in France, but in Korea, 18-year-olds still couldn’t even open a postpaid transit card without a parent’s approval.
There were plenty of parents who would still follow their adult children overseas out of concern, let alone an 18-year-old.
It made Taehyun wonder if the kid’s family was a bit… unusual.
And that got under his skin.
Taehyun knew what it was like to have parents who weren’t exactly typical either.
“So, yeah. Just meet him once. Who knows? Maybe he’ll open up to you. This is his first time in Korea, and though he grew up speaking Korean at home, he hasn’t really had anyone to talk to.”
‘But I doubt that’ll happen,’ Taehyun thought, sighing once more.
He eventually nodded, giving in.
“Alright. I’ll meet him.”
“Good. You’re making the right call. And seriously, it’ll do you good to get out of the house too. Staying home all the time isn’t healthy, even if resting is important.”
‘Right. This is all just a ploy to dump a difficult kid on me,’ Taehyun thought, stifling another long sigh.
He couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that a storm was brewing, and his gut feelings never missed.
°❀•°❀°•❀°
And the very next day, Taehyun was called in to step up as the rescue pitcher to settle this crisis.
He’d heard things weren’t looking good, but he didn’t expect to be thrown into the thick of it like this.
‘What am I even supposed to do, showing up out of nowhere? I’ll probably just make things worse.’
All he knew about the kid was that his mom wasn’t too keen on supporting him, he was from France but looked fully Korean, and he was a fencer.
That wasn’t much to work with.
“Why fencing, of all things…?”
Although he didn’t have a particularly bad relationship with the fencers, it wasn’t exactly good either.
After electronic protectors were introduced to Taekwondo matches in the early 2000s, the sparring matches Taehyun participated in changed significantly, becoming more of a footwork contest.
Even before, since most points came from kicks, the matches often resembled sword fights using their feet, but the change in scoring with the electronic gear made this even more pronounced.
As a result, instead of the flashy martial arts matches people expected, there were slow, awkward foot-based contests, leading to the derogatory nickname “foot fencing” instead of Taekwondo.
So, while there were no hard feelings among the athletes, there was still a lingering resentment towards fencing.
It wasn’t like the fencers were at fault, but the mocking label wasn’t exactly pleasant, and that left him feeling somewhat uneasy.
‘Not that I plan to show any of this discomfort to them…’
Still, with fencing being used as a sort of insult, he wondered if the fencers had an equally negative image of Taekwondo.
That thought weighed on him.
* * *
……
Tsk